


Now and Forever

by Rosie012



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:06:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie012/pseuds/Rosie012
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel gives Jack the gift of discovering his past.<br/>Jack gives Daniel the gift of family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now and Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Mitch and Shazzz! both gave me help with grammar as well as suggestions to help make this story better. I give a lot of thanks to them for their help as well as how quickly that help came.
> 
> I have never researched a story as much as I have this one. I learned what I could about life in southern Minnesota, particularly what homesteading was like, the types of trees that grow there, what the land is like. I learned more than I wanted to know about spring fed ox bow lakes but again, thanks to Mitch for explaining about this geography. The man is a fountain of knowledge. There is a lot of imagery in the story, most well known but some I looked up. It took ages to do all of that. Which leads me to say that I am surprised and a bit disappointed that there are only 6,299 words to the whole thing. Hopefully they are words that give you a feeling of happiness and love and an enjoyable read.
> 
> And now I wonder if there is any chance that I can come up with some art to add to it. I'll have to think about that.

Now and Forever

By Rosie  
http://rosie012.dreamwidth.org/  
http://rosie012.livejournal.com/

The sun has been heating my shoulders for a while now and my John Boat is drifting in the breeze over the lake. I’ll have to paddle back toward the cabin soon. 

Maybe Daniel will be done digging in the dirt by the time I get back.

We’ve come to the cabin to finish recuperating from various and sundry injuries. I’ve had worse. Daniel has too. After all, he’s been dead. Well, I guess we both have, but when it’s me I don’t have to be the one whose heart is breaking. I tell you, every time he comes back my heart gets such a jolt that I wonder if it can survive much more of this.

Soon after we arrived at the cabin the skies opened up and the black clouds made it dark inside. We turned on the lights to put together a quick bite and then went to bed. 

The memory of those first four days staying in bed makes me smile.

Slowly I reel my line back in pretending that there could be a fish down there waiting to bite down on the twinkling lure. It’s never happened but I never get tired of trying.

It's quiet, peaceful. All I hear is the water lapping against the sides of the boat and the song of bluebirds along the shore. It's getting late. One more cast and then I'll head back. Hopefully Daniel will be waiting for me.

Who knew being out on the lake would be so lonely?

The boat rocks gently in the current and I cast the line one last time. This time I only pretend to reel the line in slowly.

The first four days we were both so tired. Healing takes a lot out of you. So we stayed in bed four days pretending to have a lot of sex in our free time, but mostly it was sleeping, reading and watching TV. It was heaven. 

Sharing that small double bed again had been hard to get used to at first. I'll admit that. I can be territorial. And Daniel can flop all over the place in his sleep. So much so that I sometimes think he's part chimpanzee. Especially when he starts picking lint off of me. The second time he started doing that was on the morning of the fourth day and I started to think that maybe he was getting a little bored.

If he was frisky enough to be getting bored I decided I had something for him to do and we finally did have lots of sex. Guess I was getting a little bored too.

I hook the lure and lay the rod down in the bottom of the boat. Grabbing the oars to row back up the lake to my dock I can't help but grin. I’m hot and sweaty and my skin has begun to prickle while I row, daydreaming of rocking into Daniel. I’d felt the hair on his legs and cheeks when I first entered him. He was rocking and swaying, Daniel never holds completely still when I’m going in and I have to steady myself with my hand on his back. Last night, after he’d sucked me all the way in I slid my hand up his skin to his shoulder and leaned over, smelling him, caressing him, while my chest moved over his back. I felt like we were joined everywhere.

His panting and moaning started and never stopped. I love listening to the noise he makes. It gets louder, higher and eventually the attempts at words are thrown in, like a new language only he knows. I have no idea what he says when he is getting close but it's then that I feel his tightness the most. God I love that moment. The feel of him, hot inside, smooth and hard outside. I wish it could last for hours and at the same time I want to move faster and deeper and keep it building. Sometimes I slow down and reach for him but not that time. He already had his long fingers around his shaft and was suddenly riding me. I had to rise up off his back and grab his hips to hold on till the end. It was amazing. He is amazing. He came, gritting his teeth and trying to hold back a howl. Maybe he thought he'd scare the squirrels. I was so swollen that I thought I'd black out when he started bucking so I held on tight and stayed as deep as I could, twisting and grinding until I exploded. I probably howled to. I was too gone to remember, but my mouth was dry and my throat hurt a little.

It was incredible. We collapsed, wiped with the rag nearby and drifted off to sleep as our hot skin was cooled from air being circulated by the fan rotating above us.

I haven't seen him much since then. That was five days ago. Nine days out of our fourteen gone and I'd spent more than half of it fishing alone because we'd gotten up the next morning and gone for that fateful walk. I should never have taken him down the path to the flat land beneath a hill near the old bank of the river. I’d walked that path a few times as a kid to climb the old trees up on the hilltop where the fallen stones lay underneath. I knew that they marked the graves of ancestors long gone from this earth. But I was a kid and didn’t care all that much. The trees were far more fun.

I suppose I should be happy that Daniel is making discoveries about generations of my family I knew nothing about, but I miss spending all day in bed with him. And really, I think he just can't resist playing in the dirt. His parents probably encouraged it with pride, delighting that their precocious child would happily follow in their footsteps. 

Anyone else would have gotten this dirt thing out of his system, grown up like the rest of us and started playing with... well, whatever. But no, not the son of two Egyptologists who had a major discovery that had ended up in the Met, even if it had killed them.

Really, his desire to mark off land and dig holes in the ground was too much. Tonight I would have to put my foot down. Or beg. Begging worked better with Daniel.

I could give him the evil eye, but he rarely seemed to notice that. And when he did it never ended up good for me. Not on downtime. Definitely not on downtime.

You'd think that someone in a relationship would learn to hold his tongue once in a while. He doesn't need to make an issue every single time we disagreed.

My shoulders are starting to burn. Maybe I’m rowing a little too hard. I relax and notice a fallen tree, long dead and glowing with the evening sun. The trees behind it are all shadowed and dark. The tree is a landmark. I know I’ll be back at the dock in just a few minutes.

I really hope Daniel is there and already cleaned up. If he isn’t we’ll probably get into an argument over who showers first or who makes dinner. Daniel has more ways to let me know he thinks I’m controlling or simply taking delight in ruining his mood than you could possibly imagine. None of these things are true but that doesn't stop the snorts and rolling eyes, and even times when he stares at me with utter disbelief and a hint of panicked fear that maybe I really don't understand what he is talking about. Sometimes I don't know whether to laugh or kick him. Damn. I was in a much better mood when I was remembering making love to him.

If I'm honest, I sometimes don't know what he's talking about, but I don't have the same degrees he has. Maybe if he slowed down a little instead of sputtering out words faster than the speed of light.

It's good to see the dock and I pull up and tie off. Concentrating on that helps clear away my momentary crankiness. The early evening breeze is picking up and leaves all around the lake are starting to rustle. It always sounds like singing to me. 

The dock is now all in shade and I feel a chill as my hot back cools too fast. Making quick work of tying up, I grab the rod and tackle and head up to the porch. 

It's probably about time to take the reel apart and give it a good clean and grease. Maybe I'll do that day after tomorrow. For now I store everything in a temporary spot on the porch and hear the sounds inside I’d hoped to hear. I can't believe it. Daniel is here and he’s making dinner. Now that just makes my day.

The grin splitting my face when I go inside makes him smile. One of the ones where he tells me everything good he feels about me. I have to wash up and get the stink of sweat and lake water off of me so I can hug the stuffing out of him. I tell him so and that I'll be right back. He stops cutting the bell peppers and watches me walk away to the bathroom. I can feel his eyes on me the whole way.

I come out smelling clean with un-combed wet hair dripping on my t-shirt and head right back for the kitchen. There's chicken and vegetables simmering on the stove in olive oil and what looks like the left over chicken soup from when we had Chinese a few days ago. He sees me coming and puts the lid on the skillet just before I grab him from behind.

He's showered and smells clean with a hint of basil, coriander and mint. I could just eat him up. He turns in my arms and we kiss like we haven't seen each other in days instead of hours. It's wonderful. Like Daniel's leaving his dirt behind and coming back to me. 

As the kiss cools I rub his back and feel the strong muscles that have built back up after losing some tone. He'd been in the infirmary longer than I had. My sprained ankle and swollen knees didn't compare to the kicks in the ribs, he'd taken let alone getting zatted again. Jaffa, on a good day, can be more trouble than I want him being around. But that's not going to change. No use wishing.

I pull back and move my hands to his arms, still rubbing up and down. Those triceps have gotten a nice workout lately as well. He feels so good I can't wait to be in bed with him again.

"You hungry?" he asks in that low voice he uses when he's being tender.

"Sure. Brought lots of fish home for dinner." 

I like to joke about the fishless pond. It's all I have since I can't actually catch ‘em. Generations ago that pond was clear water running down to the river. Damns and erosion have changed the land and the water and then it got fished out years ago. Now it’s fed by a spring down in the earth.

It used to be a great source of food for the original settlers. My ancestors, I guess I should remember to call them since Daniel’s taking the time to study them and all. Anyway, the fish stories my granddad used to tell were legendary.

Daniel poked me in the gut and snorted. "You can clean and eat your imaginary fish or enjoy this chicken dinner with me. I gotta stir."

He turns back to the stove and I lean against his back, lightly so that I don't get in his way. My hair is making him wet now so I kiss his neck and pull away to get the dishes and set the table. I put a polished piece of granite down so that he can bring the skillet right to the table.

"Watcha drinkin'?" I ask him over my shoulder.

"Water's good," he said. So I grab him a cold plastic bottle and a beer for myself.

We dig in and eat in silence until the edge is taken off. Then Daniel asks me if I would like to take a walk with him tomorrow. There is a shine in his eyes that make them bluer than usual, although that could be the reflection of the blue t-shirt he is wearing too. Still, there is something there in his expression and I know he has finished as much as he plans to. For this trip anyway.

"Yeah. I think I can spare the time," I answer him and then pop a piece of tomato in my mouth. "This is a great dinner, Daniel."

"Nothing to it," he says. Then he tilts his head a little to the side to look at me better and adds, "Sometimes simple is the best way to go." He gave me one of those quick flashes of upturned lips that look suspiciously like smirks and then turns back to his plate.

"Do you know how far back your family has owned this land?" he asks casually.

I’m not sure if he is fishing for information or just starting the conversation about his dig. He had to know already from the dates on the gravestones. But come to think of it, that wouldn't really tell him everything. Only the time the English came and settled the area. This land had been given to John Singleton when he had married a Dakota woman named Wa'chazi. He had wanted a place to farm and the Dakota showed him this place when he fell in love with one of their own.

"I know about when the first European ancestor came here. But I can't tell you much of the history from back then. There are a few old family stories but I’m not sure how true they are. What I can tell you is that this was Dakota Territory and he was given this place to homestead when he married Sunflower." I took a drink of beer.

"Actually, Sunflower is what the family stories say he called her." I get up for a piece of paper and write out the Indian name that was supposed to mean sunflower. "This is how I have been told it was spelled."

Daniel looked closely at what I had written then looked at me. "So you knew you had an Indian ancestor? I only wondered because so many people who do thought it was shameful and so much of that family history is lost. Although that isn’t as true in more recent generations"

Daniel is frowning and he’s looking down with that look he gets when he’s thinking hard about something. I still get a little startled when he’s talking a mile a minute and suddenly goes quiet like that. Must be hard for a guy who lost his whole family twice to understand how anyone could throw one away. I reach over and pat him. He looks a little self-conscious. He doesn’t always like that I know him so well. He’ll get over it.

"Yeah, I knew,” I say while pulling my hand away. “I can't say that I know much about her, but that's got more to do with over two hundred years rather than any desire in the family to hide her." 

I’ve got one last piece of chicken and I munch it down before getting up and taking the plate to the sink.

"I cleaned up the cemetery," Daniel says quietly from behind me. I have to turn around to give his shoulder a squeeze before taking his plate out of his hand. I clean the dishes while we talk.

"Lotta stones." I say.

"Yeah," he responded with a pride I knew he felt for me, for my long roots into the past right here on this land I still own. Suddenly I wanted to cry. I had forgotten about my ancestors and realize now how proud I am of that long line into the past. I want that for Daniel. I want him to feel a part of something so big. And I feel a need to make him part of this big family too, so he never is alone again.

"There is one very old stone with the names John Singleton and Wak'chazi, with a k.” Hearing his voice again as he stands so close while I work takes the momentary pang away. I love listening to him rattle on when we are alone like this. Well, sometimes. This is one of the times.

“Under her name there was a little poem carved.” He recites it to me.

“In her eyes was my Hope,  
In her heart was my Faith,   
Throughout my days, my Sunflower."

Daniel pauses while I take that in, and then goes on. "She died a few years before he did." He is speaking very casually, but I can see his mind building their life story with everything that he had discovered. I suddenly want to take that walk with him tomorrow badly. But first I’m taking him to bed.

“You’re more like my weed,” I joke at him as I dry my hands with a dishtowel. I can’t help a chuckle when he looks offended like he does now. 

The dishes are in the rack and I have stored the leftovers in the fridge while he talked. I quickly wipe down the table and then pull him into a hug. “A persistent, aggravating, hearty thing that goes away and always comes back.” He pulls back a little and his half smile tells me he is a little less offended.

“Weeds are awful pretty,” I say patting his chest and now he smirks. “But it’s that always coming back part that I like the most.” Daniel’s still smirking but his eyes have gone soft and they look so pale I could stare at them all night long.

"Come on, my Chante," I say, dragging him toward our bedroom door.

"Your enchantment?" Despite the snort he gives Daniel looks very happy. Guess he’s decided being a weed isn’t so bad.

"No," I say, but then add, "Well, yeah, but that's French, sorta. You are just going to have to learn a little Dakota to figure that one out."

"I can do that." He says it with such confidence I can’t help a snort of my own. The jerk would probably know it by bedtime tomorrow.

This time when I’m inside him, his legs are on my shoulders, and I can see his face. His eyes are begging and tortured and ecstatic. He’s been biting his lip but now he’s gritting his teeth and breathing hard. One of my hands keeps rubbing his chest, over his heart and I watch him. He makes me, I don’t know, but for a second I think I’m going to explode. I use my thumb to torture his nipple and my other hand is underneath him squeezing his butt. He’s coming undone, hands fisting the sheets. His panting and moaning is getting louder and louder and tremors run through his body into me. He’s killing me. I feel like I’m flying into an abyss of pleasure and skin, his scent, his moans, and heat arcing through my body from my dick. The strange Daniel words hardly start before he cries out and arches up while he comes and I start to go to pieces. In seconds his spasms and the loud “Oh” he groans for so long bring me off, falling onto him. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me wherever his lips can reach. 

In the morning the lawn has that dappled look, dark and yellow green spots all over where the rising sun is shining through the treetops. We are up early and already on our way to the dig. I can sense the heat that will come later in the day each time I land in one of the sunny spots.

I glance over at Daniel and see that eager grin he gets when he is happily anticipating discovering something new and exciting to study. I feel pretty happy myself and bump his shoulder with mine just before we plunge into the cool shade under the trees.

All around us I hear wind swept leaves, birds chirping, and the sound of our boots sinking into the pine needle covered trail. I love being hidden away from the world here alone with Daniel at my side. He feels so much a part of me at times like these that the ache of losing Charlie eases. Strangely, I feel that Charlie is close right now. That everyone I’ve lost is here inside me along with Daniel. It’s peaceful.

It is a nice change from the long solitary days in the boat. As much as I enjoy being out on the lake, I missed Daniel. Today I’m happy to head toward the place I played too many decades ago, my family’s old homestead, instead of heading to the water to spend the day alone. 

Daniel has worn the trail pretty well but the occasional thin branch flies toward my face. I manage to shove them aside and not get smacked until we hit a particularly dark slope in the path. I hear Daniel chuckle as a branch I miss slaps me on the cheek. I’m about to make a rude comment when Daniel grabs me around the waste and pulls me close. He enjoys taking care of me nearly as much as he likes making fun of me. I like it.

Daniel has changed so much over the years. The long hair and youthful eagerness are long gone. He was once so full of hope, certain that we could find Sha’re and free her. Life has beaten that out of him. He no longer walks behind me at my shoulder chattering at the speed of light all about the possibilities he sees. Sometimes I miss that Daniel so much that I ache. 

These days Daniel walks at my side and has no problem taking care of me. Well, actually, Daniel never really had much problem trying to take control, but our relationship is easier now and Daniel is a different man.

I can’t help it. I’m suddenly so grateful to have him with me that I lean into him for a comfortable second. He gives my side a squeeze and then I pull back to make hiking the trail safer. 

It isn’t much longer that we break through into a clearing and I feel Daniel hold back a step so I can get the first look-see.

There are holes in the ground but none of the twine I expected to see separating the sections. Some lumps of disturbed dirt lay in a symmetrical search pattern where holes must have been filled in. 

Stones lay in the dirt outlining what must have been the location of the cabin that is long gone. Who knows how long ago it rotted away. There was nothing here except weeds when I was a boy. Lying neatly at the base of the hill I spot a couple of large rusted nails and another metal lump that might be a teakettle.

The kettle is old, but probably not as old as the site. A later generation would have bought that. Or traded for it. They would have made a living trapping for skins. It would be a good living with all this land.

It’s like watching an old western in my head, except this time the people aren’t some characters in a story but my own ancestors. My family. I usually never thought much about this place but now I’m overwhelmed with this feeling that I’m reaching into the past or it’s reaching out toward me.

I look around to see where Daniel is because I want him at my side. I want desperately for him to feel a part of all this and not just be the discoverer. He is still behind me and I reach back and pull him close. I’ve never felt more like he’s my partner than right now.

I’ve only ever heard stories about these people. This sudden deep connection to my family’s past has taken me by surprise, I admit, and for the moment I’m speechless.

This passes and I feel the pull to explore while holding Daniel’s hand, dragging him along with me as I carefully walk around the outline of the cabin. We get to a corner where it looks like the outer wall had run back into the hillside. Looking at the rising dirt I see vertical lines that are a little darker. I know it has to be wood rotted down to the minerals being absorbed into the earth. This is something I’d never noticed before and I look at Daniel who immediately falls into lecture mode.

“It was common for cabins to be built into the hills in the days of the early settlers,” Daniel tells me as I reach out to touch the line of dirt.

Now I glance at the metal on the ground and then turn to Daniel looking, I’m sure, wide-eyed and grinning like a lunatic. Daniel laughs at me and I get lost in his eyes. He has these lines around them that crinkle with pleasure. I love those eyes like this.

“I didn’t want to disturb this location too much,” Daniel says quietly. “It felt wrong, since these people are your family. I thought you could decide if you want me to do more some other time.” 

Daniel ducks his head because he knows he sounds more sentimental than scientist. But to me he sounds like an opera, and I’m pleased at the reverence he’s shown the people who first settled here.

I chuckle and pull him close for a kiss and a bear hug. He likes those and is delighted. I can tell, especially when he huffs air into my mouth trying to restrain a chuckle of his own. I pull back and pat his cheek while this man I love entices me with, “There’s more.”

Okay, I had expected there would be, but his excitement makes me turn back to the site to explore more of what he’s found. Daniel leads me to an area marked off by more stones, smaller than the ones outlining the cabin’s location.

“This,” Daniel explains eagerly, “was a garden where the family’s herbs and vegetables were grown.”

I don’t see how Daniel knows that but notice that there are some of the dark circles of disturbed dirt and assume that these were dug and filled in by Daniel. Looking it over I imagine a garden of thyme and rosemary and mint, maybe some purple coneflower and other medicinal plants growing with the vegetables and a few types of fruit.

“Do you suppose there were fruit trees?” I ask him looking around to see where they might have been.

“Don’t know how old they are,” he says pointing off to the left, “but over there are some apple trees. Just a couple, but there were probably more, yeah. Maybe some berries.”

Then I look up and follow the line of site from the kitchen garden off into the trees where I see the trail that would take us up to the white rectangles of stone I once played near. We head up the slope of the hill and I see that there seem to be many more standing upright now. I hurry toward them to see what Daniel has accomplished up here. 

Huge old tree trunks shelter them, filling in the spaces between the clean and upright headstones. Memories of exploring up here come back to me, but now I realize I am looking at an old graveyard and not my old playground. The last time I was here, and I don’t want to think about how long ago that was, most of the stones had fallen and broken and were nearly completely buried in the ground.

Now many of them stand upright among the grasses, tree roots and wildflowers with the canopy of branches and leaves above. He has cleared them of the weeds and bramble with just moss here and there casting green shadows on white head stones. It feels like a sacred place and I stand still taking it all in. Then Daniel nudges me forward.

I hold his hand again and we walk through the little rows. Soon, lying in the shelter of an old willow tree, Daniel shows me one large stone with the names of John and Sunflower Singleton etched into it. Their surname was at the top with his on the left and hers on the right. Below Sunflower was the Dakota name Wak’chazi with the poem Daniel had told me about last night. 

The stone was gleaming. 

“You cleaned it up,” I comment as I let go of his hand and kneel in the dirt over the resting place of their bones.

“Yes, just this one,” he told me. “I stood the other stones up but left them alone otherwise.” He points behind him saying, “There is the first O’Neil. I think that generation had only daughters survive to adulthood and so Mary, who married a Jonathon O’Neil, inherited the land.”

I grinned and looked up at him standing next to me.

“Family name,” I say simply while I notice the sun hit his hair so that I can just about see the blond that used to be there.

He nods his head and shrugs his shoulders. The bright light has me squinting as I watch his face. Out of the blue he says, “I don’t know if Daniel is a family name. I suppose I could find out. Never looked into it.”

I tugged on his pants at the knee and he gets down on the ground with me. Don’t want him thinking of what he’s lost.

“This is surprisingly moving,” I admit to him.

His smile returns and he put his arms around my shoulders, shifting me so we are facing each other. “It was fun,” he admitted. “Sometimes I miss digging in the dirt like this.” Then he snorted. “Though discovering your family is a hell of a lot more fun than digging for Goa’uld artifacts and weaponry.”

“My family,” I muttered, wrapping my own arms around him and pulling him close. “You do know that you’re my family now, don’t you Daniel?”

His old shyness makes a quick flutter across his face then he whispers, “You too.”

“Me too, what?” I push him.

He rolls his eyes and in a normal voice says, “You’re my family too.”

“Too have and to hold from this day forward, right?” I grin at him.

He looks surprised and then quietly says, “Yeah, Jack, from this day forward.” His arms squeeze a little tighter and he smiles looking right into my eyes.

“Then this is your family too,” I say waving my hand around the site, and give him a quick kiss.

The laugh that burst from his chest startled the birds in the willow above us. As they flew away I laid him out flat in the weeds and dust and gave him a promise for tonight. I don’t have any problem making love to Daniel outside, but not on top of the bones of the ancestors.

In a while we made our way back down the hill to the outline of the cabin and I thought about that garden and wondered how many herbs might be growing in there. I’d have to investigate it another time. Something might still be there that wasn’t choked out by weeds. Right now though, it was still early and the lake was calling.

“How about a little fishing?” I ask my chante. I’m still wondering how long it will be before he figures out what that means.

“Sure,” he replies tenderly.

“We don’t have to if you’d rather stay here,” I said.

“I’d like to come back but I think I could use a day out in the sunshine. This is a very sheltered place. Sometimes not even warm.”

He waves his hand forward away from the cabin site and says “I found a stream in there and signs that a small river flowed along here. Maybe next time we’re here I’ll look at that a little bit, get a better lay of the land from their time.”

I look at the trees that tower above us and realize that they are not as old as the ones up on the hill. 

“That was all cleared land, maybe a hundred years ago,” I point out.

He started walking back to the path. “Yep, it was. It’s likely that John Singleton made a living trading fur. Maybe some fish too. But possibly later on someone tried their hand at farming.”

“That might be right. I can ask some relatives.” Then I thought about what I’d said and took his hand as we walked the path back to our cabin. “We’ll ask the relatives. It’s time you met them.”

Daniel squeezes my hand and heads up to the porch as we come out onto the lawn. “That sounds nice,” he said.

I had a feeling he wasn’t sure I’d really do it which made me that much more determined that I would.

In the meantime, the John Boat and the imaginary fish are calling. Changing into shorts we head for the dock. Daniel brought a book to read so he wouldn’t talk the whole time and scare the fish away. It’s the way things are done.

Later that night, after dinner and showers, Daniel is on his hands and knees with the moonlight coming in through the window and streaming across his back. I put my hand into that light, touching his skin as I slowly enter him. He groans and his head hangs down.

I pull out and then thrust back in to rub my dick over his sweet spot and he jerks with a loud intake of breath. He is so beautiful and he turns me on more than any past lovers have been able to. I need him closer and move us so that he can sit up with his back leaning against my chest.

He moans my name and leans his head back on my shoulder so that we can kiss. My tongue enters him and I lick the roof of his mouth while pushing up with my thighs to get him to move. 

He whimpers and sinks down so that I go deeper into him. Then he does this little grinding wiggle thing that drives me crazy and now it’s me moaning into his mouth.

Finally he moves up, and as he comes down I push up to meet him. My hands roam his chest, that hairless chest so different from my own. I feel the strain in my thighs and as we move together again. I pinch a nipple. He growls and bares his neck when he arches his head farther back on my shoulder.

My hands run over his thighs and his arms reach up so that his hands roam over the back of my head, playing with the little hair I have. I lick and nip at his neck, blowing on the wetness left behind.

“Please,” he moans into my mouth and my hands move to his shaft and balls. He’s panting and moving and groaning and soon I hear that strange language he speaks when he’s completely gone.

His legs are powerful and he rises up and down and twists his hips then lays one hand over mine moving us up and down his cock while mine moves in him.

I am on fire. His back is rubbing my chest hair, his breath strikes hot on my neck with every groan and word that flies out of his mouth. He suddenly loses his rhythm and grows larger in my hands. I have to kiss him again and I demand his mouth with my groping lips and begging moans.

His back arches again and he opens his mouth wide near my own and I latch onto it just as he loses control and comes with a long scream that digs deep into me down through my throat.

He’s whimpering and tiny little noises cry at me as he lets go of my hands on him. I move my palm down to his balls and my fingers reach back toward where we are joined and he stiffens just before he goes crazy on me. In moments I’m gasping and coming hard, filling him, leaving behind seed that would never grow anything more than love.

Later we are wrapped around each other under the sheets and Daniel is tracing circles on my arm. I’m thinking about all this love we give to each other when Daniel yawns and says “Time to go to sleep chante skuya.”

Damn, I forgot that second word. And then I’m laughing because he did it. I squeeze him again like I have so many times recently and I know that this love we feel is all that is needed to make a family.

“Night, sweetheart,” I say and drift off looking forward to tomorrow. My last thought is of the old bookshelves built by my granddad where, perhaps, there is now a space where a book about the Dakota language may have been until this morning.


End file.
